The young woman in tiny shorts was trying to catch my husbands eyeso I taught that homewrecker a lesson.
For years, my husband and I had dreamed of a holiday, but something always got in the way. Thenmiracle of miracleswe finally snatched a few precious days. We booked our flights at the last minute, so our seats were scattered. I didnt mindwhat mattered was that wed soon be on a beach together. A couple of hours apart on the plane was nothing.
I walked down the aisle, scanning for my seat. As I passed my husband, I glimpsed the girl beside himno older than twenty, in denim shorts so short they barely counted, lips painted pillar-box red, lashes thick as brushes.
Im not the jealous type, so I shrugged it off. *Fine, let her sit there.*
But halfway through the flight, her behaviour became lets say, *excessive*.
She leaned in, whispering things that made her giggle at his every wordeven though his replies were curt. Her fingers “accidentally” brushed his arm. She asked for his helpwith her water, with her bag under the seat.
My husband remained polite but distant. Then she stretched her long legs over the seat in frontright in front of *his* faceas if putting herself on display.
That was it. Id had enough.
I stood, gripping a plastic cup of coffee, and strolled down the aisle. Smiling sweetly, I bent to kiss my husbands cheekand “misjudged” my hand.
“Oh *dreadfully* sorry,” I murmured as scalding coffee splashed onto her thigh.
She shot up like shed been stung.
“Are you *mad*?!” she shrieked, drawing stares. “These were *brand-new*!”
Still smiling, I replied, “Oh, I noticed the shorts. Youve been *showcasing* them all flight. Perhaps now youll sit like a decent person?”
With a huff, she yanked out a pair of joggers and stormed off to the loo.
My husband shot me a look that said, *Youre unbelievable.*
I just settled into my seatand finally opened my magazine in peace.
